Fat Cop: A Farce in Two Bits
by zevie
Summary: TwoBit wants some smokes, but is thwarted by a cop, Dallas, and the Jamieson Fountain. A short twoshot of silliness from TwoBit's POV. Answer to the WSOTTA August prompt. Rated for language and immaturity.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Why not?

xxx

Bit One

xxx

Hey, baby, gimme three shots a tequila. That's right. Keep 'em comin'. I'm gonna need it.

Why? Forget it, I ain't talkin'. You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Hey, where you goin'?

Alright, here's the story. I was walkin' up Jamieson Street, you know the one, it's got a big hill with the beauty parlour at the top of it and the Jamieson fountain at the bottom. You seen the fountain? It's a big thing, got a pool of water you could swim in and squirts water ten feet high, I swear. Oh, you _have_ seen it. Yeah, alright, maybe five feet, then.

Well, I was heading to Lucky's, this big department store, cause I was outta cigarettes, and if I was gonna take Kathy out again, I was gonna need that nicotine. She don't allow chewin' tobacco. Good rule of thumb for datin' anyway, cause it ain't so funny to the girl when you gotta stop her from kissin' you so you can spit. So, Kathy tells me, anyway.

Just as I was walkin' by, the tuffest car you can imagine pulls up to the curb. It was red and shiny. I think a Mustang. Steve's the car guy. Anyway, out of it comes a superjock – wearin' pleated pants and yellow stripey socks. Soc.

I didn't know him – he looked like a private school type to me, or maybe I just couldn't tell him apart from the other guys at school. But, us being strangers didn't stop him from giving me a dirty look.

"Greaser," he sneered.

"Pretty good, and you?" I said.

He started to say something else, but just then I remembered I hadn't polished my switchblade yet that day. He walked to the store pretty quick. I held the door for him, cause I'm a gentleman, and he was obviously a pretty little girl.

If you ever been in Lucky's you'll know why I like it so much. It's packed so full of crap, you can't hardly turn around without something accidentally fallin' into your pocket. Luckily. Get it? Anyway, I picked up a pack of Kools and bought 'em and left.

Course I'm lyin'! Whaddaya take me for?

I was trying to slip a pack of smokes into my jacket, which ain't no biggie, it's like shopliftin' 101. So long as you don't got a nosey assmonkey looking over your shoulder.

"Thief! He's stealing! He's got a package of cigarettes!"

Soc-jock was yelling like a twelve-year-old girl, his nose-pickin' finger pointed right at me.

"Me? I ain't stealin' nothin'," I said, innocently. But, I guess the owner didn't hear me.

He ran right to the door of the store and started yelling louder than the Soc.

"Officer, officer! I've got a thief!"

What a weenie, eh? Just my luck, a cop's passin' by. Big cop, big stomach, big moustache. I betcha he was makin' up for a smaller somethin' else. Naw, I mean brains! Sheesh.

He waddled into the store and looked me over. Second time that day someone I didn't know looked at me like they'd seen me before – in a toilet.

"I oughtta take you downtown," he says, hitchin' up his belt.

"I ain't stealin'," I said, politely. "I wasn't outta the store. It ain't stealin' if I ain't gone yet."

The cop points at my hands. "You've got two packs of Kools in your hands, don't you?"

"Is holding stuff a felony or a misdemeanour, sir?"

The fuzz got all red and swelly then, so I did what any sensible person would do. I beat it the hell outta there.

Here's the thing about runnin' from the cops. You get those bicycle cops, you gonna have to run fast. You want those lazy ones ride around in a car all day – them you can out _walk_.

Lucky for me, I got a fatty. I just aimed myself uphill. By the time I'd got to the beauty parlour at the top, I'd shook him off.

I may have hidden under one of them hairdryers.

Anyway, Sylvia, this chick Dally _wishes_ he was goin' with, she works there and she told the cop there wasn't no one but them girls in the shop, got rid of him like that. Scary broad. Even scarier with scissors in her fist.

She knew me already cause she pals around with my girl. So, she had no trouble tellin' me what's what.

"You owe me, Two-Bit Mathews, and don't you think I won't collect!"

Dally strutted in before she could tell me what I owed her though. I knew just what he was there for, too. Obvious as fuckin' anything, cause no self-respecting hood gets his hair cut at the "Curl and Fluff".

He leaned over the edge of an empty chair and gave Sylvia the eye.

"Hey, baby," he said, blowin' smoke as usual. No cigarette in sight even – I'm pretty sure he just produces it himself. I think he must have given up breathing air all together.

Anyway.

"Hey, baby." He grinned. "How much for a wash and blow job?"

"Get lost hood," she said, automatically.

"Well now, that's not very nice," Dally said, and started to move towards her.

I figured I'd save her from him, since I owed her and all.

"Okay, Dally," I said, picking up some scissors. "You want a straight cut or a permanent?"

Dally gave me a dirty look, but so did Sylvia. Crazy me, I thought she _wanted_ to be saved.

"Quit clownin' around," she snapped and swiped back the scissors. "You owe me remember? Not the other way around. I need you to pick up some more shampoo from Lucky's." She gave Dally a look. "I'll do you myself."

Gross, huh?

Anyway, Dally didn't look like he much wanted a haircut. I figured I'd save him instead, us bein' friends and all, and Sylvia being a bitch. Not good enough for him. I figured I'd distract Sylvia so he could make a getaway. Hands down the easiest way to distract someone: start touchin' all their shit.

"Hey, Sylvia, what's this? What's this do? Hey, what's in this bottle?"

"Don't!" she screeched, and grabbed at it.

I'd just been trying to pull the top off, but she managed to knock it up in the air. Time slowed, I swear to God, and the bottle turned once or twice. Then, the top snapped off and popped Dally in the forehead. He didn't notice so much, cause the bottle had exploded all over him, and he was covered, head to toe, in green stuff.

"Ah, I see. It's fairy dust."

"It's green eye shadow," Sylvia said, annoyed. "And it's ruined."

Dally was pissed, so I won't repeat what he said. It's uncouth.

"Who'd want to put all that green gunk on your eyes?"

"Girls do," Sylvia snarled, swiping at Dally. "It's for makin' you feel like a fairy princess, not for throwin' at hoods, Two-Bit Mathews."

"Dally ain't a fairy princess? I don't know _what_ to believe in anymore."

I was all tired out from runnin' when I finally managed to shake him off. Dally may be fast on horses, but you turn your head to look at a pretty somethin' while _you're_ doin' the runnin' and chances are you're gonna end up running into a tree. Jes' sayin'.

I still needed that soap, cause I'm a man of my word, so I walked back up the hill to the store. I wasn't too keen on waltzin' right back into Lucky's and having the owner screech at me again. But, there wasn't another store around for miles. I was outside the store tryin' to figure out what to do, when I noticed Soc-jock was still inside. I walked by his car real casual to see if I could borrow it. Sitting in the backseat was this big canvas bag with the school logo and a long zipper on it. I thought there might be some shampoo in it, so I opened it. Nothin' but tennis balls – maybe a hundred of 'em. I was gonna just zip up and leave, but, craziest thing, the zipper just wouldn't go up. Some jerk stuck a piece of gum on it.

Anyway, I figured I needed a plan B to get the soap. I know there's a storeroom up top of Lucky's where he keeps the stock, so I thought, if I could climb up to a window on the second floor, I could sneak in and out with the shampoo with no one the wiser. Simple plan, right?

So, I walked around to the back of the building. It was a hot day, and the windows were all open a crack. Too easy.

There was a drainpipe comin' down the side, but I wasn't about to push my luck by climbin' it both ways. I ain't been small enough for that since the ninth grade. The first time.

There was this big old clanker of a dumpster sitting in back. I gave it a good shove and it rolled pretty easily over to the window. Musta been newly oiled, it rolled so easy. Standing on top of it, I was just about half a foot underneath the windowsill. One good jump and I caught hold of it, but when I pushed off the dumpster it started to roll, and it didn't stop until the street. Looked like I'd have ta warm up the ol' drainpipe shimmyin' muscles after all.

Anyway, I climbed up into the storeroom first. It was real dusty, and crowded with stuff, but I found what I was lookin' for pretty quick. There was this big box with a buncha words on it – one of 'em "SOAP". Well, what's shampoo but fancy soap? I opened it up and pulled out a box and hightailed it outta there. I was climbing down the drainpipe when Soc-jock came outta the store. He pulled the bag outta his car and started walking up the street without even checking it. Dumb shit.

"Hey, dumbass," I yelled. "You better do up your zipper or you're gonna lose your balls."

Then I ran past him to the beauty parlour.

I ain't so near-sighted usually, but I was havin' a good laugh at the Soc-jock and didn't notice till I got in the shop…

"Alright, boy, you are under arrest."

_To be continued… _


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I don't have the patience to wait to post this.

Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own The Outsiders.

xxx

Bit Two 

xxx

Yeah, it was the cop! Fuckin'… I left in a real hurry, lemme tell you.

"Stop right there! You're under arrest!"

An' he comes jiggling down the hill after me. So fuckin' funny, I had to run backwards just so's I could keep watchin'.

Bad idea, I guess, cause I run straight into the ball-boy. His fault – he was the one lookin' forwards! But, I guess he was distracted, what with the balls all fallin' outta his sack.

I learned two things from this about runnin' down a big hill: one, the longer the hill, the faster and more outta control you get. And two, it's a lot harder to run when there are a hundred tennis balls rolling down the hill with you.

So, I'm runnin' down the hill, sideways, cause I was stupid enough to start off runnin' backwards, trippin' over balls and swinging my box of soap, with a fat cop hot on my tail. (Lesson number three – the fatter you are, the faster you are.) I just kept runnin' faster and faster with no end in sight and I was startin' to wonder if you could die from havin' your legs run off your body. And then I saw what was gonna make me stop.

You remember I told you about the Jamieson fountain?

Don't go swimming in it, cause, I can tell you this for sure, it is full of bird crap. It ain't worth the pennies.

I wasn't aiming at takin' a bath, I tried real hard to slow down. But, lesson number four for when you're running down a hill: if you stop, make sure there ain't no fat guy gonna run into you from behind cause he will knock you face first into a fountain full of bird shit, tell you what.

Where's that darn tequila?

Anyway, so I'm drippin' wet now, wearing my jacket, too, the soap's ruined, and fat-cop has got me at last.

"You – are – under – arrest!"

I guess he was a little out of breath.

"You – have – the – right-"

He stopped talking real suddenly, I guess cause he was busy being boffed in the head by the last of the tennis balls.

He kinda slouched down against the fountain, lookin' a little dazed. I took the opportunity, while he was otherwise engaged, to make like a tree and take off as fast as I could. I got about ten feet and I had to stop. I'll tell you why.

Even covered in green fairy dust, Dally Winston can look fuckin' terrifying.

About the time Dally realized who was staring at him, I heard the fuzz come to behind me. Hearing their war-cries, I felt just like Spartacus. Or the road runner.

So, there I am in the middle of things, Dallas comin' straight at me from the front, fat-cop gainin' on me from behind. I'm trapped! What do I do? What would you do? What would anybody do?

I took a couple steps to the left.

Lemme tell ya, I know for sure that was closer than Dally had ever wanted to get to a cop.

There was a loud wet smack, and then Dally and fat-cop staggered away, both of them tripping over tennis balls and scrambling to jump up, like a pair of human yo-yos. Dally up, fat-cop down. Dallas down, fat-cop up. It was all the funnier cause they was both shimmering like Marilyn Monroe's jewelry. Even though Dally was all wet, I thought he should be happy at least that half the glitter had been stickered onto fat-cop. But, I don't think he was.

Noo… he really looked like he wanted to punch someone. At least, I was hoping he was, since fat-cop was so close to him. An' Lord bless Dallas, he really tried.

He kept missing fat-cop, on account of the wet glitter in his eyes. He'd swing like crazy and then trip over one of the tennis balls rolling around and crash straight back down to the ground, all the while being shouted his Mirandas by the cop who managed to climb to his feet.

"You – have – the – right-"

"I DON'T expletive GIVE A expletive ABOUT MY expletive expletive expletive expletive expletive RIGHTS!"

Now, you may think it would look funny, but if you'd been there right then, you'd have been backing up slowly just like I was, taking care not to make no sudden movements.

I did almost jump sky high when I felt someone touch my shoulder from behind though. But, they were real gentle, like a pillow or a big fluffy cloud or ten-hundred-thousand-million tiny soap bubbles.

I mighta accidentally been carrying laundry soap. My mistake.

There were _thousands_. Millions of bubbles! They filled the whole pool, and were bubbling out of it, and floating away in giant chunks on account of the five-foot spout of water shooting them outta the fountain.

It was actually kinda pretty. Looked real nice and sparkly in the sun, almost more than Dallas.

But, I wasn't really thinking about how pretty it looked at the time. What I was thinking was: HIDING SPOT.

I waded into the bubbles and crouched down and hoped that they wouldn't see me. The bubbles were thick enough, I just had to make sure I didn't make no sudden noises. Trouble was, I still had to breath, and bubbles sure ain't oxygen.

The cop found me quick enough and dragged me outta there, spitting and coughing. I gotta say, he wasn't much to look at before, but he looked really mean in his soaking uniform, all covered in green glitter, with soap bubbles in his moustache and a tennis ball-shaped red mark on the side of his head.

"YOU HAVE THE RIGHT!" he started, but I'd heard it before so I stopped listening.

He'd managed to cuff Dally, but he made the mistake of turning his back on him while he lectured me. It took Dally about thirty seconds to get outta them cuffs.

"Hey, mister cop-"

"SILENCE!" he yelled. "You have the right to remain silent!"

So, Dallas got free. He flipped off the cop, then he pointed at me and pretended to stab himself in the stomach.

"You have the right something-something! Your future is blah, blah, blah…" yelled the cop.

I pretended to listen to the cop-noise while I watched Dally die a gruesome, glitter-covered death over his shoulder. When he was done, he stood up and I couldn't help clapping. I guess fat-cop thought I was cheerin' for him, like I was bein' sarcastic or something, which was unfair, but still, not a bad guess.

"You _will_ take this seriously!" yelled the cop. "You are a disgrace to society! If you continue to do this shit then something-something I forget…"

It ain't important, anyway.

Dally started angrily stalkin' up the street to the beauty parlour. Only Dallas would have the balls to hit on a chick lookin' the way he did. Though, if anyone needed beautifyin' right then it was him. Typical Dally, he was crazy-mad, kickin' at everything on the street in reach of his foot, a tree, a bag of trash, an empty can, another tree, a rock…

I was wet. I was bubbly. Fat-cop was almost finished readin' me my rights and it didn't seem likely that Dally would stage a rescue mission. All was lost.

I hung my head and tried and looked sorry, in case he let me off easy. No such luck, though.

I could hear Dally kickin' up the street and the noises that came with – a yell, a thud, a loud metal clang.

His voice saying: "Oh, shit."

"You are a disgrace to society!" Oh, hang on, no, he already yelled that. "How dare you make a fool out of me!"

I wasn't really listenin' to the cop no more, though. I was still watchin' my shoes, but I could hear an ominous noise, getting louder as it got closer. It was this low growling noise, like a thunderstorm, or like a cloud of angry bees, or kinda like a pack of bloodthirsty wolves.

Kinda like a big metal dumpster rolling towards you at sixty miles an hour.

I didn't even look up, I just bolted.

"Fat cop! Look out!" I yelled, in a fit of mad nice-ness.

It was too bad he didn't listen.

You mighta thought since I was in such trouble that I woulda run off as soon as the dumpster took out fat-cop. But, hell, I guess I felt sorry for the guy. A little bit. Plus, I've always wanted a good excuse to drive a cop car. I even used the siren. Was fun.

Anyway, full of gracious well-meaning, I took the cop up to the hospital. He was out cold. I handed him off to the doctors and they moved him up onto a bed and gave me pats on the back. Like I was an upstanding citizen!

I felt proud. I didn't even feel bad for swiping fat-cop's smokes.

I left him after they revived him, even though he just kept moaning about bubbles and fairy-greasers.

"It's been a pleasure, FC," I said solemnly, patting him on the shoulder. "But, it's about time I got going."

He tried to say something, but I cut him off.

"No, no…don't thank me. It ain't needed. All I wanted from life today was a package of cigarettes, and them I got."

And I left.

Wanna smoke?

xxx

Fin.


End file.
